The Wisdom in Silence
by TheFirstOfThisName
Summary: Corporal John Shepard survives Akuze - barely. His experiences there shape his outlook on life, the Alliance, and the future. If only he can get the screaming to stop. MShep, no pairing as of yet. M for violence, expletives, and all the explosions.


Prologue

From behind the sights of his Hahne-Kedar Avenger sniper system, Corporal John Shepard thought that Akuze reminded him of home.

It wasn't the same as Mindoir, of course. For one, there wasn't any gunfire, or explosions, or piles of bodies of colonists he had once called friends. But it reminded Shepard of a time before the batarians came, when the sun still shined and there was more to look forward to in life than hiding in the ruins of the prefab houses that had been put up and hoping the Alliance marines found you before the slavers did.

And that set his teeth on edge. On a farm-ready world like Akuze, one so seemingly idyllic, where were all the damn pioneers?

 _"Shepard! Anything?"_

Pressing a finger against his TACCOM earpiece the sharpshooter replied, "Negative, sir."

On the private channel, Lieutenant Caldwell swore. _"Understood. Keep your eyes open, Corporal. Sensors report geological disturbances in the region. Not quite earthquakes, but...inform me if you have anything solid."_

There was a click that let Shepard know the Lieutenant had exited their private channel. That was good. The rest of the platoon did not need to hear this. But Shepard was agitated. It meant something had rattled Caldwell.

He almost laughed. _Caldwell, getting jumpy? The man was on Shanxi._ Still, it would be best for him to find a new vantage point. He took his rifle in his arms, cradling it almost protectively against his chest. Shepard rose to his feet from his prone position, watching the bustling forward operations base from his watch atop the hill.

Alliance Marines were busy. Lieutenant Caldwell rarely left anyone time to be alone with their thoughts. Bad for morale. Instead, on mission, every waking moment was spent checking munitions, in maintenance on the MAKOs, or on endless patrols.

Shepard shrugged, collapsing his rifle down to its stock before placing it against the magnetic clamps on his back. He needed to relocate. Shepard set off at a brisk jog, passing around camp.

The whole damn planet was eerie. A lone prefab settlement in the middle of one of Akuze's savannahs. Save for the occasional small rise in the land, all he could see for kilometers around was grass. It left the whole platoon exposed.

Shepard knew better than to worry about an enemy warship. Well, anymore than usual. The SSV _Yorktown_ was patrolling the system, half an hour away at most should the Lieutenant need to hail them. And from what he understood after listening in to Caldwell's briefing, preliminary scans of the planet showed no constructs or complex biological life-forms save for the pioneer settlement.

The system's star reached its zenith above grassy, flat Akuze. Despite the temperature regulating functions of his armor, courtesy of the Systems Alliance, Shepard could feel the sweat beading on his brow. He really needed to put in a requisition form for one of those new Kuwashii visors. Sure, they were expensive, but maybe if he dipped into his own pay the Quartermaster General back on Arcturus could make an exception.

He'd found it. A good point for overwatch. Not quite as nice as his previous site; the command center obstructed his view into the center of camp. But, it was the next best thing. Shepard unclipped is Avenger sniper rifle from its mag-lock and stretched himself flat against the grassy hill. Pressing one eye to his scope the Alliance marine quickly re-calibrated it to account for the glare of the near noon-day sun.

He tapped his finger against his earpiece. "Shepard to all patrols. Position established one hundred ten meters northeast-by-west of operational CIC."

 _"Understood, Corporal. Resume overwatch."_ Lieutenant Caldwell, this time on the platoon-wide channel.

A momentary _hiss_ proceeded another voice. _"Shepard! Do you always have to be so damn professional?"_

Shepard grinned. "No, Toombs, I just like showing you up."

The playfully irate Corporal bellowed into the TACCOM channel, " _Cheeky bastard. Twenty creds says that at inspection the Lieutenant gives me a commendation!"_

"You're on. I'm happy to take your money," Shepard answered.

 _"Cut the chatter, both of you!"_ Lieutenant Caldwell cut sharply across before Toombs had a chance to reply. " _You're soldiers - act like it!"_

Shepard sighed, returning his eyes to the horizon. Corporal Toombs was a friend. The whole platoon were friends. It was hard to find Alliance personnel in the rank-and-file that you didn't want to like. Everyone save the Lieutenant had volunteered some time over a period of two months. He said they were green. It was true, but Akuze was hardly Shepard's first mission. They had never seen something on the scale of Shanxi, but sometimes Shepard wondered if that wasn't a bad thing. He wasn't sure he could handle that. Mindoir had been bad enough.

Another _hiss_ preceded the Lieutenant's voice. " _Shepard, private channel. We've got rumbling down here, enough to register seismically. You seen anything?"_

Pressing his eye to his scope, Shepard gave the operations base a careful sweep. "Sir, I have nothing in sight."

The Lieutenant cursed. _"Damn. It's probably nothing, but..."_

He didn't need to say it. This planet, this mission, nothing felt right. "I understand, sir. Resuming overwatch."

Shepard didn't have a chance. From inside camp one marine shouted, "What the hell is that thing!"

The rumbling was audible even more than a hundred meters away. Then Shepard saw it. A massive stalk had erupted out of the ground right in front of the CIC. Except...it was moving. It was ringed, like a worm, but its head...at least, the top part of it stood a good fifteen meters above the top of the prefabs.

 _"Lieutenant Caldwell to all receivers! Do not engage! Unknown native life-form, possibly intelligent. I repeat, do NOT engage!"_

Shepard rose to a kneeling position, bracing his rifle against his shoulder. Looking down the sights, as the scope magnified his target, he could see it. It was like a massive worm, but...it had teeth. Instead of some sort of soft flesh, it had what appeared to be a hardened carapace. And it was just looking at the CIC, as if not entirely sure what to do about it.

Then Shepard heard it. More rumbling, and a second of the monstrosities burst forth, causing marines to scatter as it erupted from the ground, towering over the armory.

He could hear confused shouting across all TACCOM channels, the Lieutenant trying to restore order. And then something happened that Shepard would never forget.

After Action Reports, while generally corroborating one another, were unable to agree, even years later, about what came first, a jumpy marine's twitchy trigger finger, or the thresher maw's natural aggressiveness. What was undeniable was the slaughter that followed.

Across the camp, the air was filled with the sounds of assault rifles firing at the gargantuan creatures at full auto, hyper-accelerated rounds impacting against impossibly thick hides. Shepard could only watch in horror as the first of the beasts tensed, before stretching its monstrous maw wide and unleashing a waterfall of some foul, viscous fluid upon the CIC. Before his eyes the entire prefab began to dissolve, and the screams of the Lieutenant and his immediate staff rose over the cacophony of battle.

Immediately, Shepard clicked the safety off, adjusting his sight for the distance to that selfsame monster, and put a high-velocity round right through what he hoped was the center of its brain.

It didn't even notice it.

Cursing, Shepard willed his rifle to cool faster. Adjusting his aim, he fired again, this time right into its widening mouth as it began to spray its acid.

This time, the monster rocked back, as though it had been stung. Its malevolent gaze turned towards his direction, and Shepard nearly yelped as he realized it had retreated beneath the ground. He watched as the ground began to quake as it appeared to beheading in his direction.

Abandoning his hill, Shepard began an all-out sprint down towards the prefabs. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the second creature nleashed its own acidic spray across the armor. He flinched as the heavy weapons began cooking off, likely killing anyone who had survived the acidic rain.

Fifteen seconds later, he found himself at the opposite end of camp from the ruined armory. Marines were maintaining a withering fire on the monster which had destroyed the munitions supply, to no visible effect. Shepard watched as the one he had shot came forth from the ground, right through the spot he had been crouching.

Then, a cannon fired. Someone had the presence of mind to get a MAKO. Breathing a sigh of relief, he watched as the monster in camp railed in the face of the MAKO's constant barrage.

Just as abruptly as it arrived, the Mako was gone as the creature's immense, crushing mouth came down hard, cutting through the reinforced chassis of the Alliance recon vehicle, and tossing it about like a toy. Around him, marines stopped to watch in transfixed horror as the monster actually _ate_ the severed MAKO.

Shepard spared a glance for the utterly ruined CIC. Inside, he could see the bubbling and congealed remains of uniformed Alliance personnel. The Lieutenant never had a chance. Around him, marines began to fire again, but it was sporadic, undisciplined. The other creature had returned, evidently giving Shepard up as lost, and had smashed through the secondary barracks. Half-armored marines were impaled on the monster's claws, before being torn to bloody shreds. Shepard ducked behind the still standing south wall of the CIC, flinching as a mangled arm was flung in his direction.

He couldn't see Toombs. He could only hope the Corporal hadn't been one of the poor souls inside the MAKO.

A hand on his shoulder drew Shepard out of his nearly fugue state. He spun, drawing his pistol and shoving it beneath his attacker's chin. Chin. Hand. He stopped, realizing it was one of his fellow marines. "Willings. Sorry." Shepard quickly holstered his handgun.

The marine in question looked terrified. He looked like Shepard felt. "Corpor-Shepard. What the fuck are we going to do!"

Shepard had no idea. The Lieutenant was dead, likely all the NCO's except for him and maybe Toombs, or another Corporal. That meant Shepard, for all intents and purposes, was in command. _Fuck._ He turned back to the trembling Willings. "Private. I need you to find anybody left standing. This is rally point Alpha. Rally point Bravo is the vehicle depot, assuming any of the MAKOs are running."

He paused. Priority was getting the hell out of here, but to where? On a planet that was nothing but open space for thousands of kilometers in any direction? "Priority one is contacting the _Yorktown_ for evac, and then to bomb the fuck out of those things."

Shepard's orders seemed to return Willings some resolve. "Sir, comms are down, but the emergency transmitter is in the officer's quarters, primary barracks."

Shepard sighed in relief. _Finally, something that isn't absolutely blown to hell._ "Right, you gather everyone at Alpha and Bravo. I'll contact the _Yorktown._ Move your ass, Private!"

Willings bolted, bellowing along the way for everyone to follow him. Shepard turned in the opposite direction. He needed that transmitter now, or they were all dead.

He heard screams. Shepard risked a glance back, only to see a trio of marines caught in the deadly acidic spray. He picked up the pace, his feet pounding against the soft ground.

As Shepard reached the barracks door, he leapt through it as it slid open for him. He sprinted down the room, passing between row after row of empty bunks.

Pounding the activation button for the Lieutenant's quarters, Shepard tore through the room. In the footlocker at the end of his bunk sat the transmitter. With fumbling fingers, he activated the homing beacon. At worst, the _Yorktown_ would know their location. He held up the mic. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Corporal John Shepard of the Systems Alliance Navy, hailing the SSV _Yorktown._ We are sustaining heavy losses against an unknown hostile alien force, and require immediate evacuation. I say again, Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, SSV _Yorktown_ please respond!"

For a moment that seemed like an eternity, Shepard held his breath. He could only hope that someone on the _Yorktown_ was awake.

After what felt like a lifetime, a short _hiss_ came from the transmitter. "This is Commander David Anderson, aboard the SSV _Yorktown._ Are you all right son? Where is Lieutenant Caldwell?"

Shepard almost felt like laughing. "Sir, the Lieutenant is dead. A lot of others too. I don't know how much longer we can last."

What sounded like a curse came through the line. "Corporal, I'm not going to lie. The _Yorktown_ is at least a half-hour out even at FTL."

Shepard steeled himself, nodding even though the Commander certainly couldn't see him. "Sir. I'll gather whoever is left. We'll hold as long as we need to."

From the _Yorktown's_ end, he could hear someone shouting about waking the Captain. Commander Anderson spoke again. "Keep the transmitter online as long as you can. You're doing a brave thing, Corporal. Anderson out."

The line cut out. Shepard inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He took off his helmet. The damn thing was getting way too hot.

Shaking his head, he began a jog for the door to the barracks. He'd spent far too much time in here. As soon as he touched the activation key for the door, Willings bolted in, nearly bowling him over. The Private looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Sir! I...I couldn't find anyone else. Not even by the MAKO pool."

 _Damn._ "I made contact with the _Yorktown._ They're coming for us, but we need to hold, just for a little while longer."

Willings held up a suspicious looking satchel. "I thought so, sir. I found some unexploded grenades, and some other munitions. One of those things is gone. I'm not sure where. But the other is still out there. It was...eating all the MAKOs last I saw it, sir."

Something that liked eating thousands of kilos of metal. Not pleasant, to say the least. "We can try planting these near its stomach...base...whatever, or try to lob a couple grenades down its gullet. See if it likes that. Most important though, Willings, is take care of yourself. This is not the time for heroics."

Before the Private could respond, Shepard raised his rifle to his shoulder. He poked his head out the door. Nothing in either direction. He crept out, cautiously, taking care to keep close to the prefabs walls. Neither of the monsters were in sight. At a pace just shy of a run, Shepard drew closer to the armory. The prefab building was a wreck, marine corpses and limbs tossed about by the explosion. He was about to call for Willings when the screaming started.

Startled, the sharpshooter spun around, only to see one marine trying to drag himself out of the ruins. His lower half was missing, dissolved and lost to the monster's acidic spew. Shepard had no idea who the marine was, his face blood drenched and blackened by fire. He was screaming incomprehensibly from the pain. Shepard only was able to take two steps closer before he heard an incredible boom. His vision faded and a ringing filled his ears.

By the time he was close to sensible again, Shepard run a hand across his face, receiving a blood-soaked palm in reward. He heard a deep, guttural roar. Looming above him, perhaps fifteen meters away, was one of the monsters that had wreaked so much havoc.

 _Armory...must have exploded again. Shrapnel._ He felt the ground beside him, finding the unharmed stock of his rifle. _So. This is how it ends?_

Dazedly, Shepard stared back at the monster before him. He had never been more alone before, and yet...at least he could die alongside his friends.

As the beast opened its maw wide, it swooped down for him. Shepard was certain those teeth capable of shredding reinforced armor could make shot work of his own skin.

From somewhere behind him, there came a great shout. "Eat this, you ugly bastard!" Shepard's head swung to follow, only to see Private Willings with assault rifle in hand and unloading into the creature's face, munitions satchel slung about his shoulder. The Private screamed, "Sir! Move your ass!"

Shepard scrambled to his feet, ignoring the blood dripping down into his eyes. Drawing his pistol, he too began firing almost blindly in the direction of the monster, which seemed to have become confused at their resistance. Willings raced up to him, shoving Shepard back towards the prefab wall. "Take cover, sir. I'll blow this bastard back to hell."

Shepard did as he was told, scrubbing his face to try to swipe the hot, sticky blood from his vision. Taking of his rifle once more, he looked down his sights only to see the beast lunge, scything one of its talons across Willings' waist, bisecting the Private.

Shepard roared in a mixture of anger and loss - Willings had just saved his life. The monster surged down towards Willings' remains, one final indignity that the Private would suffer.

The sharpshooter's eyes alighted on the forgotten bag. Overcome by sudden clairvoyance, Shepard set his eye to the sights, blood now caking his rifle's scope. Even as the creature's mouth engulfed Willings' legs, Shepard fired a single hyper-velocity round through the satchel. For the tiniest fraction of a second, he feared that he missed. But as the round impact with the sensitive materials within, a fireball erupted forth, a concussive wave knocking Shepard flat.

The monster was not so lucky. The sheer explosive force of the bag full of grenades and other munitions upon its sensitive insides tore the lower half of its jaw off. It reared backwards, fountaining alien fluids across the Alliance base.

Shepard looked on, and began to laugh as he realized he'd blown half the damn thing's head off.

He should have waited. The monster wasn't finished. In its pain-wracked throes, the monster's awareness alighted on the tiny creature that had caused it so much anguish: Shepard. As it retreated into the underground system of tunnels it had burrowed over uncounted eons, the thresher maw, as it would come to called, ejected one final burst of acidic splatter in the Alliance marine's direction.

Shepard's eyes widened as he frantically leapt out of the acid's path, only to scream as the super-corrosive bio-weapon ate through the flesh of his left leg, caught in its path despite his hasty maneuver.

Shepard, for a brief moment, felt only pain. More pain that he had ever felt, possibly across his entire life combined. Preserving a moment of thought, he bit down hard on his lightly-armored forearm, muffling his screams as the acid continued its inexorable path through him. The corrosion continued until Shepard braved a glance down. He saw his tibia dissolving. Shepard passed out.

* * *

When he came to, Shepard felt only pain. It wasn't the same as before. He couldn't feel his foot, or his shin for that matter. There was only a blinding agony surging upwards from his knee.

Doing his best not to whimper, the Corporal risked a glance downwards once more.

His leg was gone.

There was a reddish puddle of fluid on the ground where it had last been. He tried not to think about what it used to be. His thoughts raced.

 _I don't think I can walk. I need to get to the transmitter. Did I even kill that thing?_

In the distance, Shepard heard a bone-chilling roar. The earth rumbled. At least one of them was still out there.

He tried to roll over, to look around. Pain like a thousand hot knives being jabbed into an eye all at once...or like having your leg dissolved in a monster's super acid shot up his thigh. He gasped, loudly, and his hand shot to cover his mouth. He couldn't afford to make a sound. It would hear him. It might find him...or it might leave him alone. He just needed to be very quiet. Silent, or die.

Shepard's eyes darted about, but all around him prefabs sat gutted either by fire or acid or both. Corpses of varying integrity coated the landscape. He wanted to cry out, in pain, for help, in grief and anger...but he dared not. He only hoped that Commander Anderson and the _Yorktown_ could make good on their promise.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the barracks that he and Hillings had run out of not long before. In its death throes, or pain, or whatever, the monster had destroyed it as well.

 _The transmitter._

Without a lock on the marine's position, and with the CIC trashed, the _Yorktown_ would have to scan the sector manually. That could take hours.

So Shepard was very, _very_ quiet, and laid there amongst the corpses of his friends, while at least one monster raged in the distance.

* * *

Night had fallen over Akuze. Aboard the SSV _Yorktown,_ Commander David Anderson watched their guest.

"Commander." Captain Marcus Jackson strode up behind him, looking pensive. _He blames himself. Of course._

Anderson saluted crisply. "Sir."

"At ease, David. How is our guest?"

Anderson sighed heavily. "He is stable. The doctor says he will be fine, physically. Suffered minor injuries to the head, from shrapnel. Likely given a concussion from the same explosion. The worst is the leg. Sawbones had to remove necrotic tissue from the stump, some kind of acid must have eaten away at his leg." The Commander paused. "I suppose we know what happened to the colonists, then."

"It would seem we do," the Captain replied. "Do we know how this happened?"

"No sir. Corporal Shepard has been sedated. He was conscious when our recovery team found him, and hasn't said a word. Sawbones also thinks he might have cracked," Anderson summarized.

The Captain seemed distracted. "I suppose we'll learn more once the sedatives wear off. And you are sure there were no other survivors?"

Anderson was slow to answer. "We...found only corpses. Not every man was accounted for. Indeed, we were only able to positively identify fifteen. But from some of the holes in the ground...the aliens were perfectly capable of swallowing men whole. We found the lower mandible near Shepard's position. It is possible he or one of the other marines hurt their attacker."

Jackson cursed. "Fifteen men out of fifty. And one is alive, but crippled. Goddamnit, Anderson, but this is not going to be a good story for the Brass."

"Sir, we followed protocol. We returned immediately upon receiving the distress signal. Neither we nor the men on the ground are at fault here. They had little intel to begin with, and nothing to suggest something capable of wiping out a platoon of trained marines."

The Captain curled his hands into fists. "I know that, Anderson. And you responded with an admirable calm. But you've got to understand, this is the single largest loss of Systems Alliance personnel since the First Contact War."

Anderson didn't know how to answer that. So he merely stood alongside his CO, watching Shepard sleep.

Suddenly, he was struck by a thought. "What will happen to Corporal Shepard, sir?"

"Assuming he isn't a complete headcase?" The Captain spread his hands apart. "This is above my pay-grade, Commander." He paused. "I took the privilege of peeking at his service record. The operations he's seen he performed exemplarily well in, and his scores at both marksmanship and infiltration were impressive to say the least. Possibly the best shot in the Fifth Fleet."

The two officers fell quiet. The thought of losing a soldier with such potential to pressure, or fleet politics sat poorly with the both of them.

After a short while, the _Yorktown's_ surgeon walked in. The balding doctor began checking the monitors expressing Shepard's vitals.

"Can we do anything about the leg?" Anderson blurted aloud, eyes locked on the stump.

The doctor stopped his work, turning to fix the ship's XO with a withering glare. "Nothing organic, and we can't clone something for him. I've never seen any extra-terrestrial with this genetic makeup before, but it has a particularly corrosive toxin. The nerve endings are damaged, and I'm afraid that could damage his system further. I simply don't have the expertise, and I doubt the Alliance is willing to pay for someone who does."

Anderson continued, "So...he'll never walk on that leg again?"

The surgeon seemed agitated. "I did not say that, either. I could fix him up with a synthetic one. It would be taxing to learn to walk properly, and it would hardly be very attractive, but he could regain near-full use of his motor abilities once again."

The Captain did not hesitate. "Do it." He turned. "Anderson, we will talk more once we reach Arcturus. Be ready to debrief Corporal Shepard."

Anderson saluted. "Sir."

Captain Jackson left, and Anderson was left to watch, transfixed, as the surgeon began to fasten an ugly metal apparatus, shaped very much like a shin and a foot, to Shepard's leg.

"Rest up, Corporal Shepard. You'll need it."

* * *

"So, to summarize, forty-nine marines were lost against this threat, and you think you _might_ have killed one of these things?"

Shepard was sitting in a small chamber on Arcturus Station, the capital of the Systems Alliance government and headquarters of the Alliance Navy. Across the table from him were five very unhappy-looking Admirals. He only knew one of them, Admiral Hackett of the Fifth Fleet, by name. The others...the painkillers the doc back aboard the _Yorktown_ had given him had his head swimming. Maybe that was the constant pain radiating up his leg-no, his thigh. Or maybe it was the provost who he had leaned on the entire way from the ship.

"Corporal Shepard?" He shook his head swiftly, causing it to swim even more than ever. He refocused on the grey, unpleasant-looking man asking him. "Are we boring you, Corporal?"

Shepard stiffened in his chair. "No, sir. Apologies," he said in a raspy voice. "As I said, sir, I was unable to confirm the creature's death."

The Admiral in question leaned back. There was a sudden flurry of conversation from across the table. Shepard resisted the urge to run one hand across his face. Despite the surgeon's efforts, the shrapnel had done a number on him. Dozens of angry red lines slashed across his forehead, cheeks, and nose. The doc told him they would turn white with time. Only a half-dozen or so were serious enough to require stitching and the liberal application of medi-gel, but those would be the largest.

Admiral Hackett started speaking. "...utter disaster. When the media hears about this, we'll be crucified. The public will want answers."

"Answers we don't have." Another of them chimed in. This one, a woman with a serious, no-nonsense tone.

"We have one thing. Him." The greying Admiral who had just been questioning him said. The others looked to him, confused.

Hackett spoke, "Danforth, the Corporal is one of my marines. If you're looking for a scapegoat, you'd best find someone else."

Admiral Danforth shook his head. "Stephen, look. Corporal Shepard has performed well above and beyond his station. He is to be commended." Admiral Hackett began to relax, with that. "To survive where no one else could is no mean feat. And if the communication records and Shepard's own report are to be trusted, he showed incredible calm under fire from an unknown and overwhelming enemy."

That got Shepard's attention. What were they blathering about?

The woman rom before added, "Remarkable leadership ability, for a Junior NCO, attempting to organize a counter-attack after the loss of Lieutenant Caldwell and the more senior NCOs."

Admiral Hackett slowly began to catch on. "What do you propose, then, Danforth?"

The Admiral in question pressed his hands together, eyeing Shepard closely. "Corporal Shepard, your sacrifice and devotion to the System Alliance Navy and your fellow marines is to be commended. If there is anything the Systems Alliance can do for you, or any reward you would seek, I believe you've earned it."

The other Admirals seemed surprised by this, but not entirely disagreeable to it. Shepard's head started spinning again. He could see the liquefied corpses, the gaping monster maws as they tore his friends apart or ate them whole. The screams. And the worst part, waiting to die like everyone else, terrified even to make a sound. Waiting for the end to come.

Shepard cleared his throat. "Admiral, sir, with your permission I would like to seek a general discharge from service, sir."

This was clearly not what Danforth had been expecting, as his demeanor changed from pleased to sour in a flash. Shepard chanced a glance towards Admiral Hackett, but the man was like a stone.

"Admirals, please disregard Corporal Shepard's request. He has just survived a very traumatic experience and is clearly shaken." The Admiral paused. "Isn't that right, Corporal?"

"Aye, sir. It must be." Shepard answered.

"Good. Request denied." The Admiral frowned, before turning back to his fellow officers. "I recommend launching an immediate campaign with Corporal Shepard at the heart. An expert soldier, talented marksman, an un-killable marine: the Sole Survivor of Akuze."

The other Admirals considered this, forgetting Shepard for the moment. "An icon, you mean. A hero, to take the focus off the defeat." Hackett mused. "Certainly not a bad idea. But the media would like an officer better. A leader of men. That would probably increase enlistment, young idealists looking to serve under the hero of the day."

Danforth nodded. "Good. Get Shepard ready for ICT training. He's capable. Make him a Lieutenant, 2nd grade, and we'll have our man." He stopped. "Shepard, you have a question?"

"With respect, sir, I would like to decline my promotion." Shepard said.

The Admirals' gazes, collectively, hardened at this. It was clear even Hackett was displeased. Admiral Danforth did not bother hiding it. "Shepard, I do not want to commend a man only to bring him up on charges of insubordination. Do I make myself clear?"

Shepard answered, "Crystal, sir. But I do not believe myself fit for command."

"Damnit, man, I don't care what you believe! You are simply going to have to deal with it!" Danforth growled, incensed.

"Admirals, please. If I may." Hackett cut across, laying a hand on Danforth's shoulder. "I think perhaps we have another option. Our hero coming from among the ranks will be fine as well. It may even be a better option. Recruits will say, 'Corporal Shepard started out just like me!' It will foster the idea that anyone can become a hero."

After a moment, Danforth relented. "Very well. Corporal Shepard, your debriefing is concluded. Report to med-bay."

Straining, Shepard pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the surging pain on his left. He saluted shakily, before pushing away the provost who stood to follow him. On unsteady legs, he stumbled out of the briefing room.

With Shepard gone, the Admirals were able to speak freely. "Does he want to face a court martial, Hackett? Exceptions can be made, because of these extraordinary circumstances...but not forever."

The Admiral of the Fifth Fleet answered, "I don't think he is trying to cause trouble. We all saw the vids, Danforth. Akuze really was a hellhole."

"The Corporal had to lie there, for hours, waiting for evac. Surrounded by his dead friends..." The serious woman seemed sad. "The psych eval cleared him for duty, but he seems like talking is not precisely his forte."

Danforth growled, "If he doesn't want to be an officer, then we don't need him to talk. We just need him to shoot." He paused. "We'll see how he feels in six months."

Outside, stumping along the hallway, Shepard resolved to remain silent. He had to, to survive. The damn pain in his knee was excruciating, and he was pretty certain that the light-headedness was more than meds, but it would pass. If he was quiet enough, maybe the screaming would stop. He really hoped it would.

He didn't think he could stand to listen to his friends scream much longer.


End file.
